


occasionally you came in out of the rain

by sevendeadlyfun



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1885641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevendeadlyfun/pseuds/sevendeadlyfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It was meant to be a conversation. He hadn’t wanted to let her go when the music ended. Hadn’t ever wanted her to leave the circle of his arms, if he’s honest.  Now that she’s with him all he can think about is how to hold on - to this moment, to her, to the tiny flutter in his chest when her fingers brush the back of his neck.</i> How Finn and Rae come back together. A sort-of of sequel to <a href="http://thecrushingblack.tumblr.com/">Lu's</a> wonderful <a href="http://thecrushingblack.tumblr.com/post/88509510913/the-lovely-fantasticab-requested-a-fic-inspired-by">Shoop</a> story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	occasionally you came in out of the rain

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the poem [Our Many Never Endings](http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/our-many-never-endings) by Courtney Queeney.

Kneeling in the dark hallway listening to the echo of her soft moans, Finn rests his head against Rae’s trembling thighs.

It was meant to be a conversation. He hadn’t wanted to let her go when the music ended. Hadn’t ever wanted her to leave the circle of his arms, if he’s honest.  Now that she’s with him all he can think about is how to hold on - to this moment, to her, to the tiny flutter in his chest when her fingers brush the back of his neck.

That flutter pushes him to tell her he thinks talking is a good idea. The shine in her eyes reaches all the way down to the corners of her mouth and her smile lights up the room. The press of her hand in his when they leave the room together sets his heart pounding - the heavy knock of his heart almost painful inside the cage of his chest.

He really meant to have a conversation.Towards the end  - and he hates, hates, hates that word - they’d given up on speaking. Too many bloody battles by phone had exhausted them both and stolen their words. The last fight had left him punch-drunk for days afterward, dizzy and sick to his stomach - and alone, far away from her and the love he’d thought would last forever.

He’d gorge himself sick on all those old words if he thought it would seal them together again.

The noise of the party fades as they walk, until it’s no more than a soft drone in the distance. Her arm brushes against his as he turns to look at her. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, just fucking talk ya knobhead. But all he can is stare.  Her lovely face’s half hidden in the shadows of the dim corridor and he’s got no words stronger than his need to just be touching her right now.

He tucks her hair behind her ear, trailing his finger down the line of her jaw.

“Rae.” It’s the only word that he can muster, pushed out on a quick exhale, and his belly shudders as she reaches up to take his hand.

“Yeah, Finn?” She leans in to his touch and her eyes close.

Conversation. Words strung together to form sentences that tell her how important she is to him, how much he misses her, how sorry he is for all the shit that went wrong between. He’s meant to be talking right now.

Winding the long strands of her hair around his hand, he leans forward, telling himself that it’s just one kiss. One kiss and then they’ll talk. She’s snugged up against him and it’s only natural, he reasons, to brush his lips against hers. Doesn’t mean they won’t be talking.

The soft kiss deepens as she sighs into his mouth. He hopes it means she’s happy to be with him, back where he knows she belongs - it’s a lot to pin on a quick exhalation of air but he’s always been willing to take whatever little bit she’ll give him and make a whole life out of it. He raises an arm to lean against the wall, pushing her backwards until they’ve got nowhere left to go. He catches her soft bottom lip between his teeth and parts her leg with his thigh.

Words can be overrated, yeah? There’s nothing he can tell her with words that he can’t show her with his body. They’ll talk at some point, though.

Her hands slide around his waist, fingers kneading the muscles of his lower back. She pulls back slightly and rearranges him, pressing him flush to the front of her body. Standing between the deep vee of her legs, Finn’s hips rock forward and he smiles as her head drops back against the wall.

Definitely going to be talking. Later.

He tugs at the slippery material of her dress, anxious to feel her skin under his hands. The dress is lovely but there’s so much of it and no matter how he tugs, more fabric collects in his hand. He stares down at the pink skirt, eyebrows furrowed.

Rae’s warm hand trails down the front of his trousers, pressing lightly against his erection and he don't care how much dress she’s wearing anymore. The feel of her hand on him, any part of him, is fucking amazing and he pushes forward in to her grip. His head drops forward to rest on her shoulder while she strokes his cock through the thin fabric.

He loves her, he loves the feel of her hand on his body, he loves the smell of her skin, and who the fuck needs to talk when he can run his fingers teasingly over the swell of her breasts?

He reaches down to lace his fingers through hers because it’s been three months since they’ve talked, longer since they’ve touched, and he’d like to not go back to the party with a wet spot on the front of his trousers. She pouts a little and he catches her lips again in long, lingering kiss. He’s not ready to let this moment go, even if he can’t get her skirt to cooperate.

If it won’t come up, he’s more than happy to go down.

Dropping to his knees and sliding his hands up under her skirt, Finn looks up at Rae. Her hands cup the back of his hand, teasing through the short strands of his hair. She might be smiling but it’s dark and he needs to know.

“All right?” he asks and he can hear the thickness in his voice. His fingers rub lightly on the tops of her thighs, waiting for her answer.

“Yeah, Finn. It’s all right.” Her response is soft but definite. It’s all the permission he needs to push up under her full skirt.

She’s wearing hold-ups instead of tights and it’s simplicity itself to push her silky pants down far enough to give him room to work. Work, he thinks, that he’d be happy to do forever. Wouldn’t even need paying, him. The slight shiver when he gently licks a path down her cunt is payment enough.

“Finn.” Just his name, a soft whisper in the dark but his cock is throbbing thinking about hearing her scream it in this musty hallway.

He parts her folds with two fingers, sliding into her as he mouths at the swell of her clit. The scent of her sex fills his nose, sending a shock through his body to pool in the pit of his stomach. She’s clenching around him already, rocking her hips into his touch. Reaching under her skirt to grab him, she tugs at his hair, pushing him deeper into her and demanding more  - more that he’s happy to give.

Suckling eagerly at her clit, he curls his fingers upward to fuck her harder. It’s been a few months but he thinks he’ll never forget exactly how to please her. Just like the sweet taste of her cunt on his tongue, it’s bone-deep knowledge that can’t be erased by hard words or time. He’ll die knowing the feel of her above him, the sounds of her body when she comes.

Thighs shaking, she groans and he can feel the slick gush of her around his fingers. He laps at her, wanting to push her over one more time. His name echoes down the deserted hallway until it doesn’t sound like a word anymore. _FinnFinnFinnFinnFinnFinnFinn…_

Resting his head against her softly quivering thighs, he tries to catch his breath. He knows when he stands up, he’ll have to have something to say. They were meant to be talking, not fucking. He’s shit with words and he always has been. Besides, he doesn’t think there are words to show her how he feels when he’s pressed up inside her and she’s shaking them to pieces. But he knows he needs to find some quick smart.

It was meant to be a conversation.

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
